State Of Grace
by heroesfan1
Summary: Song-fic inspired by Taylor Swift's State Of Grace. Oneshot.


_'I'm walking fast through the traffic lights_  
_Busy streets and busy lives_  
_And all we know is touch and go_  
_We alone with our changing minds_  
_We fall in love till it hurts or bleeds, or fades in time'_

Sylar grazed her face with his fingers, smiling slightly as she woke slightly. It's the dawn of 2300. It's been a long time since he actually admitted to himself that he needed Claire; and an even longer time since he reformed himself. It had been less than 50 years ago when Claire finally accepted him, and he finally allowed himself to fall, honestly and throughly in love with her. He told her things he couldn't admit to even himself, and she in turn had told him her deepest darkest fears...Some about herself and what Peter said she would become. He still remembered that evening when it happened. The changing point of his life; and of course, hers.

_'And I never saw you coming_  
_And I'll never be the same'_

_50 years before..._

He leaned against the doorframe of her bedroom, eyeing her suspiciously. Was this a trick? It felt like a trick. Claire eyed him with the same suspicious nature. "Claire...You invited me for your birthday...Why?" She sighed and finished putting the last candle on her cake. "I don't really have that many friends anymore, Sy...And you," She gave him a glance that was partway between curiousity and fondness, "and I have gotten pretty close over the years." Sylar snorted. It was sort of true. They didn't really have that many friends, because even though everyone knew about Specials, people found it pretty weird when you looked like you were 25, but were actually 230. They also had the same sense of humour and were pretty much the only people who knew about each other's past. Claire was the only person who could possibly say, 'Hey, did you know Sy here was a serial killer psycopath who terrorised me like a 156 years ago?' and Sylar was the only person who could say, 'Claire here is an ex-cheerleader with a habit of jumping off inanimate objects and snapping her bones back into place.' But even so, he had killed her parents and spent a considerable amount of time terrorising her and that came between them alot.

Sylar sighed and allowed himself a rare half-smile. Claire smiled back, making him smile wider. He loved seeing her smile. It was incredibly rare these days, and whenever he saw her smile he felt like he'd just won a medal. "So, what kind of cake did you get?" He asked, eyeing the suspicious looking cake-like substnce. It wasn't really any shape, it was just sort of-charred. A smirk played at the corner of his lips. "Claire?" Her green-blue eyes flitted to meet his brown ones. "Yes?" He couldn't take it anymore; the smirk burst through. "You didn't happen to make this cake by yourself?" Her eyes turned defensive and she crossed her arms. "Fine, okay! I don't really know how to bake! It's just one of the things I never mastered, okay?" Sylar couldn't help himself, he burst into laughter. Claire scowled and stomped in the direction of her bedroom. Sylar ran after her, and grabbed her around the waist before she could slam the door in his face.

"Let me go, let me go!" She laughed and fought to loosen his iron grip around her waist. He chuckled and swung her in endless circles around the room, her feet not touching the floor once. "Sylar, stop! I'm going to lose my lunch all over your Ramone's T-shirt!" He finally released her, albeit reluctantly. She almost regretted it when he let her down. It had felt so good to laugh and be held, even if it was by Sylar. She turned to face him, still grinning. Her hair was flying all over the place, and she was sweating slightly. He smiled as he tucked a blond strand behind her ear. She was still beautiful, even in her dishevelled state. They stared at each other, entranced for a moment before Claire cleared her throat and brought the moment to an end.

"Cake?" She offered, grinning at him. Sylar winced, but nodded. She playfully swatted him, and they made their way back to the living room, where the light from the candles she had lit had almost completely faded. Out of the 13 candles she had lit, only two candles remained lit. "You wanna blow one?" Claire gestured to the two. Sylar nodded. "On the count of three! One, two, three!" They both leaned in and blew out the candles in unison. Their eyes met across the cake, and Claire found herself surprised when she realised exactly how handsome Sylar was. The corners of his eyes sort of crinkled when he smiled and the slight stubble on his face seemed to invite her to rub her face against his.

_'You come around and the armor falls_  
_Pierce the room like a cannon ball_  
_Now all we know, is don't let go_  
_We are alone just you and me_  
_Up in your room and our slates are clean_  
_Just twin fire signs, four blue eyes'_

His eyes pierced hers across the charred, overcooked cake and it was like they were reading each other's minds. In complete synch, they reached for each other and pulled themselves into a kiss so right, it was almost wrong. Claire felt like she had just been struck in the heart. His lips were so soft, so warm, so inviting. Sylar closed his eyes and traced the corners of her lips with his thumb. The kiss was soft, strong and so full of want and passion that he was sure if she pulled away it would just break his heart. They did have to pull away eventually, what with oxygen and all that, but it wasn't as hard as Sylar had first anticipated it to be. Mainly because Claire was smiling, not frowning like he'd half expected her to be. She flung her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist, causing him to gasp. He grabbed hold of her lips with his, and not long after, stumbled into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind them.

And the rest was history. They'd had a lot of fights over the years, numerous ones so big Sylar had actually thought it might have been the end of them, but they'd pulled through, time and time again. At the end of every fight, he'd pull her close and she'd fall asleep against his chest, tears soaking into his T-shirt.

_'So you were never a saint_  
_And I love the Sade's are wrong_  
_We learn to live with the pain_  
_Mostly of broken hearts_  
_But this love is raging and wild'_

Their's had never been an easy love, but it was one that neither of them knew how to live without. It might sound cheesy and everything, but it was true. Claire had learnt to accept Sylar's past; no matter how broken and painful it was. She had brightened his considerably grey world with her spurts of laughter and hundred watt smiles that he had never been able to resist. Claire knew Sylar would never be a saint, that much was pretty obvious from his sometimes innapropriate jokes that made her laugh nonetheless, but she didn't care. He wasn't a monster anymore, he was a man. _Her_ man, that would stick with her through thick and thin.

_'This is a state of grace  
This is a worth while fight  
Love is a ruthless game  
Unless you play it good and right  
These are the hands of fate  
You're my Achilles heel  
This is the golden age of something good  
And right and real'_

No matter how hard it was sometimes, both of them knew what they were fighting for. Love had always been something that had alluded both before. Claire because of the lies that everyone had seemed to tell her, and Sylar because of his need for power and dominance. They brought out the worst in each other, they brought out the best in each other. They were their own weaknesses, they were their own strengths. They were undeniably combined, for better or for worse.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sylar's lips grazed the surface of her cheek, and her eyes fluttered open. Claire wrapped her arms around the dark haired man, pressing herself against his warm body. "Morning, Claire-bear." She smiled sleepily, and kissed his lower lip. He drew his hands around her hips and pulled her closer to him, if that were possible. He inhaled the sweet smell of her soft, golden halo of curls and deepened the kiss as the sun rose over their tiny apartment in the middle of downtown New York, casting yellow, orange and pink streaks to fall across their bodies. Claire smiled up at Sylar. It seemed they had both finally found their state of grace.


End file.
